If you are truly on the left, if you reject ideas of power and hierarchy, what you want is equality. Otherwise, it won't work at all.
I write for what's left of the eight-year-old still rattling around inside my head
You go out with a girl you used to date, she looks so damn good, and then at a certain point you say, Boy, now I remember. I know why I left!
The left are gonna calling you names. You're gonna be racist, gonna be a pig, gonna be sexist, you're gonna hate women, you're gonna hate blacks, you're gonna be anti-transgender, whatever. They'll come at you in all directions to force you into acquiescence.
Now, once again, 2 students left. But of course they're a part of you now.
I was running from one problem or place to another, with no time left to study, or sleep, or just breathe. I felt pulled in all directions, fighting to keep all these obligations circling in the air above me. It was only a matter of time before something fell.
I have never left another senator out to dry. Never.
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished; and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead.
I have ever been prone to seek adventure and to investigate and experiment where wiser men would have left well enough alone.
My face looks like a wedding-cake left out in the rain.
I left Christianity because I wanted to be a moral person. That is why I left. I no longer believed in its lies.
Mr L Prosser was, as they say, only human. In other words he was a carbon-based life form descended from an ape. More specifically he was forty, fat and shabby and worked for the local council. Curiously enough, though he didn't know it, he was also a direct male-line descendant of Genghis Khan, though intervening generations and racial mixing had so juggled his genes that he had no discernible Mongoloid characteristics, and the only vestiges left in Mr L Prosser of his mighty ancestry were a pronounced stoutness about the tum and a predilection for little fur hats.
No man, who continues to add something to the material, intellectual and moral well-being of the place in which he lives, is left long without proper reward.
That there should be some fire even after this life is not incredible, and it can be inquired into and either be discovered or left hidden whether some of the faithful may be saved, some more slowly and some more quickly in the greater or lesser degree in which they loved the good things that perish, through a certain purgatorial fire.
Pictures should never be posed. They are 'revealed' so must be accepted as they are. Left alone.
When I was very young every grownup was a hero. It's been all downhill since then, and I have only two left.
The wisest man I ever knew in my whole life could not read or write. At four o'clock in the morning, when the promise of a new day still lingered over French lands, he got up from his pallet and left for the fields, taking to pasture the half-dozen pigs whose fertility nourished him and his wife.
My father left me with a saying that I've carried my entire life and tried to pass on to our kids: 'Tough times don't last, tough people do,'
It is kind of lovely to be sitting alone, just thinking, very quiet, no one around. I don't feel alone or left out.
The comma, if it's left out, sometimes can be a problem. There's a slogan on a T-shirt going around that "Let's Eat, Grandma," and "Let's Eat Grandma. "
